Gradual Inclination Towards You
by Toriga-Okami
Summary: A Drabble folder, holding a series of oneshots focusing on Altair and Maria, bare in mind I'm halfway through the game and haven't got to the end. This drabble: The 'famous' Tower Scene - Alty and Maria get. It. On!
1. Parkour

**_A/N:_** This will be my little dumping ground for these drabbles, and they might not appear so often, so don't expect too much from me on this, but I promise anything I do put up will be of reasonable quality, and most likely linked together in some way, though mostly not cronological xD

So anyway, have fun and Enjoy :)

* * *

Maria watched with interest as Altair scaled the wall of the tower, his fingers finding grips in the bricks and windows. He moved with what some would have called feline grace, but with what she personally preferred to call Monkey Movement. She could never help herself from wondering exactly how long it had taken him to learn to climb like that – it would have taken her years if she'd tried – but never wanted to ask, just in case it was something ridiculous like a week.

He did this a lot when they were travelling together, finding the highest, most dangerous point around, and then climbing it. She could never see what he was doing up there, but he never took long, and soon enough he would come plummeting earthwards to land in a pile of conveniently placed hay. She didn't even want to consider what Altair might look like if there wasn't a pile of hay _exactly_ where he needed one, and this little hobby of his seemed to once again raise the question of how long he had spent perfecting it – and how many limbs he had broken in the process.

Maria herself had never bothered to learn building climbing and had stoutly refused when he had offered to teach her. As enticing as it was, using windows and ledges and bricks and shaun-off wooden beams to climb some ridiculously high building for no apparent reason only to then take the aptly named 'leap of faith' and basically through yourself to your possible death, it didn't really appeal to the Ex-Templar. Altair hadn't really understood why, but then again when you've spent your entire life running around on a roof with a bunch of assassins, why would you fear a 500ft drop to a predictably sticky end?

It would not have seemed so odd if the building climbing fiasco was an occasional thing, the spur of the moment as it were, but it wasn't. Altair would whip out his map; stare at it for a little while, squinting at the page, before tucking it back into his robe and wandering off. They would walk for miles just to get to a building, so he could climb it, jump off it, land, get up and he would walk away again, completely straight faced as though nothing had happened. She had an urge to ask, but didn't really know how to phrase it.

It was after a particularly high drop to a thankfully large pile of hay that she decided enough was enough, she was tired of being dragged for miles every day just to wait at the bottom of a tower for him to do his thing and then not tell her _anything_! She was going to ask him.

She caught hold of his sleeve, trying to ignore the fact that his hidden knife had just shot out of his bracer, and said firmly, "What are you doing up there?"

He frowned, sliding the knife back into place, "Up where?"

"On the tops of the buildings. You always climb them and then just jump off. I was wondering whether that was it or not?"

"No, I'm scouting the area."

"For a grant total of 3 seconds?"

"Yes."

The low timbre of his voice told her he wasn't joking and that this conversation was now adjourned. She let his sleeve slip through her fingers and he started to walk away. She didn't follow, she just stood there and watched him walk away. It took him a couple of seconds to realise she wasn't behind him anymore and when he turned around, he found she was still standing where he'd left her. He frowned, his head turning on the side in confusion.

Confident that he was watching, Maria turned and headed back down the way they'd come, stopping when she reached the tower he'd just thrown himself off. Checking over her shoulder to see he had indeed followed her, Maria jumped, grabbing onto the top of the window and fitting her feet onto the sill. She was just preparing to jump and reach for a brick that was sticking out a little further up when a pair of hands clamped firmly round her hips and pulled her off the building.

She squeaked as Altair spun her around roughly and slammed her back into the wall, gaining a few curious looks from passersby, but their searching eyes were quickly redirected by a glare from the assassin.

"What're you doing?" He hissed, their faces mere centimetres away from each other, blocking out Maria's view of the street or even the sky, his hood was brushing against her hair, in much the same way his knees were brushing against hers.

"You wouldn't tell me what you were doing, so I was finding out by myself, Assassin." She hissed back, blushing when she tried to push him backwards, but only succeeded in pushing her chest up against his. She was using the excuse that his hands were holding her to the wall by the elbows and she had very limited movement.

"I already told you," he replied a little softer, either not noticing Maria's change in complexion or choosing to ignore it, "I was scouting the area."

"If that's all you're doing," She glared, deciding against trying to force him off again lest he notice the contact this time, "Then why won't you let me go and look?"

"You'll hurt yourself."

The reply was blunt and to the point and that might have been part of the reason it caught her, and any comments she might have had about him being selfish or a view-hugger were quickly shelved. She sighed and nodded, feeling the pressure releasing from her elbows and the blood beginning to rush back into her fingertips – it was only then she realised how hard he had been pinning her. But he was right, she would only hurt herself and that would cause problems for him, having to lug around an invalid. But then again he might as well finish her off himself and save himself the trouble, he was an assassin before all else after all.

So the next time Altair attempted to climb something, which just happened to be the wall outside her bedroom window in the inn they were staying at, to tell her they had been discovered and would have to leave via the window immediately, she didn't bother asking him any questions, just followed his orders. And when his hands came around her waist again to help her down the last little bit of the building, she found that maybe she would leave him and his monkey business to him, no questions asked. Although...

"How long did it take you to learn to climb buildings?"

"A week."

"(Mumble mumble)"...


	2. TLC

_**A/N:**_ Sometimes a little bit of Tender Loving Care is needed :3

* * *

He had only been gone five minutes, muttering something about a civilian as he left her there in the market, but already people were running past with blood on them, screaming like women in labour. Maria couldn't for the life of her think what he must have done – and it must have been him because she was sure there was no one else on the planet who could cause such a ruckus in so little time – to have so many people in such a fluster.

Her curiosity was only increased further when he jumped off the building beside her, covered from head to toe in blood – some of which she could safely say was his own – gripped her upper arm and began towing her away down the street, swiping a cloak from an abandoned stall as he went. He didn't stop dragging her until they were standing in the street outside the assassin's bureau and luckily there was no one around.

"I won't be able to climb the ladder..." He said quietly – although from blood-loss or the need for discretion she couldn't tell – "You go up and find a change of clothes."

"For who?" She questioned, glancing dubiously at his cloak-hidden outfit and then down at her own blood-splattered front.

"Me." He replied, turning slowly to slump against the wall, his hand slipping from her elbow to clutch at his neck. Maria frowned at the action:

"Altair, have you hurt your neck?"

He gave her a weathered look, then gingerly removed his hand, tugging the collar of the cloak down to reveal an ugly stab-wound, ripped around the edges – most likely made with some blunt object - and leaking dark blood in a thin trail down the column of his throat. Despite herself, Maria gasped, bringing her hands up to replace Altair's and examine the hole. Even with her limited medical knowledge, it didn't take a genius to figure out that, had the wound been even a centimetre to the right, he would have been long dead by now. Did he even realise how lucky he was?

"We have to get you into the bureau." She said sternly, standing up and offering him a hand to help pull him to his feet.

"But I'm-"

"I'll hang onto you." She didn't give him any chance to complain, forcefully wrapping his fingers round the ladder rungs for him and giving him a boost upwards. He was indeed struggling, apparently the action of raising his arms above his head was proving difficult and their progress was painfully slow, but eventually he managed to get himself to the roof. Then came the tricky part; lowering him into the bureau.

* * *

"Ouch!"

"Oh stop being such a big baby." Maria chided softly, digging the needle back into Altair's neck, trying to ignore his sounds of pain as the thread pulled taught. Getting him to let her clean it had been alright, there wasn't all that much pain that water could bring, but the appearance of Turmeric actually had the assassin begging her not to follow Rafik's advice; they had to pin him down in the end. So relatively speaking, stitches were a doddle.

She had to admit, she wasn't all that impressed with his 'Assassination-skills' when the removal of his tunic revealed a whole plethora of other nicks, cuts and bruises and he even seemed to encourage her to bandage them up for him – obviously the poor little soldier was _much_ too injured to bandage his middle himself. Just for that she made the wrappings extra tight, and if he was up in the middle of the night complaining about his lack of circulation, she wasn't going to help him at all.

"Are you done?"

"No."

Talk about impatient! Here she was trying her best to make sure he wouldn't end up with some really ugly scar or the stitches wouldn't come undone and un-do him and here _he_ was chivvying her along! It was his own darn fault for getting himself into this mess.

She pushed the needle in again and felt his fingers close around her knee, tight. Apparently that one hurt and she couldn't blame him for wanting to hang onto something, but he didn't remove his hand once the needle was out either. She could feel his eyes watching her face – where previously they had been unfocused, staring up at the cloudless sky or just screwed shut entirely – and she was feeling slightly uncomfortable. Well, as uncomfortable as one can be when they're sewing up someone else's skin.

"I know I'm fun to look at," She whispered sweetly, her brown eyes flickering up to meet with his briefly, "But staring is impolite."

He chuckled lightly, but didn't look away, or remove his hand. "Where did you learn medicine?"

"I'm a woman," She reminded him, a hint of amusement showing in her voice, "It's imperative we know some medicine. What else would we do when our men were injured? Doctors are expensive in Europe."

"But I'm not your man." He said, the weight of his hand on her knee lifting slightly, but not gone completely.

"That's not the point." She blushed. Men – Altair in particular – could be so dumb sometimes, "I'm still the woman with the medical knowledge and you're still the idiot who got hurt."

He raised an eyebrow and took his hand from her leg, lacing his fingers together with those of the other hand and resting them on his bare stomach. "I'm not an idiot." Evidently she'd hit a nerve.

The stitches finished, Maria brought her teeth to the thread, as close to the base as she could get it and bit. Altair flinched a bit as her lips brushed against his neck, and shut his eyes as she repeated the motion for the other end of the threat, biting it off at the end she'd started, her lips brushing his neck gently.

"Finished." Maria stated as she stood up, seemingly completely unaware of the proximity they had just shared. "Stay there and I'll go fetch some bandages."

Altair nodded and watched her go, resisting the urge to scrub at his tingling neck; Maria would murder him if he dislodged any of the stitches she had just painstakingly made. It wasn't his fault he was so accident prone, and he had no idea the guy was gonna drag him down with him when he went, the pitch-fork had also slipped his notice until the gut-wrenching pain had ripped through his body – and neck. Adrenaline had of course been surging through him so the rest of the 'guards' were not a problem, but he didn't stop to listen to the cowering civilian's snivelling 'thank you', that would have taken too long and he needed this high to get him back to Maria.

He had to admit, just having her near him, running alongside him as they sought to outrun the replacement 'guards' made him feel a little better. And her obvious distress at his injury had proven that she did care for him, even if it was only a little – which reminded him, he must collect his bet winnings from Rafik at some point. Her little bit of TLC would have had him sleeping like a baby if it hadn't been for the constant needle-ministration.

He rubbed his stomach while he waited for her to return and wrinkled his nose. He wouldn't say anything about it, since he wasn't really one to moan and complain, but these bandages were a bit tight, he was beginning to lose feeling in his legs.

* * *

The next morning the sunlight was blinding as it shone in through the roof of the bureau, and Maria raised a hand to shield her eyes, the long night threatening to have taken its toll on her. Altair had been asleep when she'd returned with the bandages and she'd spent a little while carefully wrapping around his wound – leaving the bandages with breathing room this time – taking her time so as not to wake him up. But the second she had rolled over to go to sleep, he had shot up like a scolded cat, disappearing somewhere in the darkness, only to produce retching noises moments later. Rafik had come outside to see what all the fuss was about, and then informed her it was a result of the Turmeric – Altair was known to have an allergy to it that Rafik had conveniently left out when he had told Maria of the spice's merits.

Maria had then spent most of the night bringing bowls of water back and forth between the fountain and the assassin, until at lat his stomach was empty and he broke out into a cold sweat. This was less than fun and even a little bit frightening as passing-out also seemed to be on the agenda for Altair's allergy stunt. One thing she would note about the Assassin's 'other side' was that he was a lot more talkative than usual – asking her what her name was, who he was, what the colour blue was like etc. Etc. These questions seemed a little out of the tombola until finally he popped the most outrageous question yet – "If I hurt myself enough times, and you had to fix me, would that make me your man?"

Maria could only compare his behaviour to that of a child, which was odd at best as the Assassin was perhaps the last person she would ever have expected to have such an idiotic side, but then again there was a lot she didn't know about this particular dark horse.

"I don't think that's a wise idea..." When did conversing with injured idiots high on Turmeric become one on the list of how to turn a person soft?

"But would it?"

"I'm not sure..."

"If I died because you wouldn't fix me?"

"Then I couldn't be there."

"So... You'll fix me every time I hurt myself, even if you're miles and miles away... Because I'm your man?"

"Something like that..."

Spending her entire night listening to the ramblings of a fever-stricken idiot spouting the most illogically-logical rubbish she'd ever heard, could only be trumped if when she awoke – courtesy of the morning light – said rambling idiot was still asleep, wrapped in the stolen cloak, snoring happily. Which of course he was.

She had no idea what possessed her to do what she did, perhaps it was her sleep addled brain attempting to help her out, or maybe it was her customary dislike for the man resurfacing after a night of tender treatment, but whichever it was, nothing that happened to her in the following 24 hours could ever bring her more satisfaction than booting Altair out of his roasty, toasty cloak and stealing it for herself, his grumbled insults and muttered curses sounding in her sleepy, befuddled ears.


	3. Target

_**A/N:**_ Wait and see...

Their bodies crashed together, tumbling to the floor in a mess of limbs and armour. Breathlessly, Maria pushed up into the Assassin, striving to move him with her hips, arching her back to roll them, but he resisted, his knees either side of her thighs keeping him steady as his hands pulled away the armour she had put on to disguise and protect herself.

Their voices were low, barely even audible and to anyone else, the words were nothing more than fluff, if they could hear them at all. His low timbre had shivers reaching up her spine, contradicting the warmth she left from his body, fully clothed as it was. His knees slid along hers as he lay flat over her, seeking to still her movement with his weight.

She was writhing underneath him now, her legs pushing, back twisting, hands scrabbling over his shoulder guards and bracer, even as his fingers buried in her silken hair, pinning her to the floor as his other hand grasped the clasps at the front of her cloak, tugging her body upwards.

Altair was in his element, using his position to his advantage, pressing the Templar down into the soft earth with his body, the fingers of one hand toying with the luscious black hair they found themselves buried in. She smelt of roses, a sweet scent that assailed his senses and had him breathing deeper; he wanted to bury his nose in her neck and take big, gulping breaths of that sweet temptation, but he had a job to do.

He was reluctant to leave her, as brief and aggressive as this encounter had been, she was just another thing on his list of priorities. Robert was first before her, but then he would come back...

All too quickly for Maria, his weight was gone and he was heaving her to her feet, his fingers still caught in the front of her cloak. The cold of the air hit her like a stone, but then he was pulling her in close again, his lips somewhere near her ear, purring in that deep chocolate voice:

"You're not my target. You're free to go. Don't bother following me, you'll be too late."

_**A/N:**_ Heh heh heh... That is all I have to say xD Other than I enjoyed writing that :P If you can't guess which scene it's meant to be, you're dumb

-Okami


	4. The Tower Scene

_**A/N:**_ Oiy, I know it's been a long time since I've posted on this, so I decided to give you guys the big one now :)

By the way, none of these things are in chronological order, so please don't get ratty at me. Also, I've never read the novels, so if I've missed something, don't bother telling me cause the chances are I just won't understand. Or care :D

* * *

He clambered over the ramparts and stood for a second, breathing hard and leaning against the wall for support. The climb had nearly killed him after that chase over the rooftops, but it was worth it to see the figure standing on the other side of the tower, gazing out to sea. It had been a little while seen they'd seen each other and he had thought maybe her effects were wearing off, but the moment she turned around and dropped her hood, curling one finger to beckon him forwards, he felt himself falling all over again. He couldn't wait.

She smiled winningly at the man stood before her and curled her index finger. God only knew how much she had missed his company, spending nights awake and waiting for a knock on her window, wandering around through the market place and hoping she'd be pulled into an alley somewhere, out of sight. But she was left alone and her formerly glorious and enlightened life now seemed rather lack-lustre without him. Having him so close and seeing in the very fact that he was _here_ detailed that he wanted her just as bad; she wasn't about to make him wait.

He closed the distance in three strides, fingers sliding into her hair and crushing their lips together, striving to be closer to her as though she was his very connection to life. His lips seemed to burn her as he kissed her. She wrapped her fingers round his wrists and kissed him back, trying to match him in power and desperation. She couldn't win however and a slight twinge of fear ran through her as his tongue slid between her teeth. Maybe he was angry with her? She had of course been kissed before – Altair being one of her most recent of conquests – but she had never been faced with such ferocity. He had never kissed her so... _hard_.

He lost himself to the taste of her lips and her tongue, sweet as though she'd just finished eating an apple or something. He had missed this so much, missed _her_ so much, he just couldn't bear to curb his enthusiasm despite his knowing that this was not the correct way to treat a lady. When she made a small sound of discomfort, or doubt – he could never tell the difference, he let them both come up for air, his golden eyes roving over Maria's face. She looked a little worried and he had to admit that he had never really reacted like that before. No wonder she was now a little dubious about him.

"Are you al-"

"Is it okay?"

They both stopped at the same time and a slight smile played across Maria's face at his choice of words. She knew what he meant of course, but it seemed that with her absence, his English had deteriorated somewhat.

"Yes, I'm fine. How are yo-"

She didn't manage to finish her sentence before he kissed her again, sweeping his tongue across her teeth, exploring the ridges of the roof of her mouth and making her shudder. She had always hated that little spot, but it seemed that men loved it. She hadn't the foggiest idea why, it felt terrible to her but then perhaps Altair didn't know how awful that felt. She pushed her tongue past his and dragged it along his roof. He broke away from her immediately and put a hand to his mouth, an expression of discomfort on his face. Ha!

She smirked and took his hand from his lips, kissing him gently and nibbling at his bottom lip, soothing the small bite with sweeps of her tongue. She didn't want him to do that again, but she sure as hell didn't want him to stop on his path to conquest. Taking the hint, Altair wrapped his arms around Maria, pinning them together, chest to chest, thigh to thigh. They shared a few more sweet kisses before it was time to get to business.

He ran a hand down her side, fingers catching and pulling lightly on her belts, before slipping up under her tunic and tucking into the waist band of her leggings. Maria shivered a bit as the cold costal air touched her bare skin and pressed herself closer to him. He smirked against her lips and backed her into the ramparts, sliding his mouth from her lips to her jaw, kissing the tilt. She gasped and dug her fingers into his clothes as his fingers explored her, stretching and stroking her insides, alternately soothing and inflaming.

His name left her lips on a whisper and he drew away from her, his lips having stayed to her neck, where a red mark was beginning to form. She shuddered as the first convulsions started and her hands left the stiffness of his clothing to scrabble across the stone on either side of her, searching for a point at which to hang on. She came with a gasp and a light cry of his name.

Not yet finished, Altair pulled Maria to him and lay them both on the floor in the hay. Maria was shivering now and Altair hurried to unbuckle all his gear. Allah above! Why did he have so much _stuff_! Boy was it cold up here. The wind was beginning to pick up slightly and was bringing a mist across Acre, but below the lip of the tower they were relatively sheltered. Maria sighed as Altair's weight settled over her, warm and solid and –Oh!

Barely a hiss escaped him as he pushed inside, the fingers of one hand fisting in her hair and the other in the hay beneath her, propping him up on his elbows as he moved. Maria forgot how to think as Altair's hand tugged her head back, pulled her by the hair he seemed to love so much and his lips began sucking on her neck. Her legs had long since wrapped themselves around his waist and she sought to still or synchronise their movements, anything to make this aching stop. But the assassin between her thighs wasn't stilling or letting her catch up, single-minded in his search for completion.

Somewhere in the 10 or so minutes it took for him to send them both over the edge, the hand that wasn't clenched around her hair had fallen to where they were joined, circling around a tingling bundle of nerves that Maria had been sure he'd forgotten about. She came with her back arched, eyes closed, mouth open and panting out broken fragments of his name as he muffled a groan in her chest.

Panting, he rolled off her and began to sort himself out, tucking things away and re-buckling his weaponry. Maria felt a little sad. Well alright, more than a little. She felt like she'd been let down again, just when things had felt right again and just when she had gotten him back for the slightest moment. Of course it wasn't anything more than a one night stand. Yes they'd had sex before and yes she really thought he wanted to do it again, but it didn't stop the world from turning, no matter the fact that hers had stood still only moments before.

"Altair..."

He stopped his buckling and glanced at her, lying half naked on the hay still, exactly where he'd left her. He felt suddenly ashamed. It looked – from here – as if he had merely used her and he dreaded to think about how it must have looked from down there.

"Maria," He leant over her and retrieved her leggings, then moved to her feet and began sliding them carefully back up her legs. "I'm sorry. You are more than this."

She frowned in confusion at his bad communication and sat up, taking the rest of her leggings of him and finishing the job. "More than what?"

"More than a nice woman." He frowned, clearly struggling to find the words. Good lord, he really had neglected his English hadn't he. At least 'the act' had required no words. "You are beautiful and I do not want to hurt you. If this is what you want," Here he indicated between her and himself, "I want you to come to Masayaf."

"Pardon?" She blinked a few times but Altair didn't repeat himself, instead returning to the task of re-equipping his gear. To Masayaf? Where the assassins live? Her? A Templar? It was like _asking_ to be filled full of arrows – 'no no, I'll come to you.' She didn't know if she wanted that. But did she want _this_?

"I want you." She said, reaching out and taking his arm when he went to stand up, pulling him back down to her. She entwined their fingers. "I want you, but I'm scared of Masayaf."

He stroked her cheek lightly and gave her a sad look, before standing up and moving away and taking the dreaded 'leap of faith'. Maria stood up and went to the rampart, looking over the edge and watching as Altair fished himself from the pile of hay and jogged away into the shadows. Wow. That went well. She sighed and thought more about Masayaf. If she went, she would have to be his forever, bear him sons and play wife until she died, to prove that she was not a Templar any more. What would it be like – she wondered this many a time alone in her bed – to bear him sons? She put a hand on her belly and sighed. The chances were she would never know.

* * *

**_A/N:_** :P


End file.
